Ronald's 'Logic'
by LautnerGrint
Summary: One-shot. Ron and Hermione are almost finished decorating their very first house after coming to terms with life after the war. With only one room left, Hermione is determined to finish with brilliance - Ron, however, has other ideas. Fluff!


**I haven't written in a while (I apologise to my followers!) so I hope this is ok, please review! If you have constructive feedback, that would be appreciated too. Please let me know what you thought. Sorry if its crappy, like I say I haven't written for a while - but enjoy ;) Disclaimer: I own nothing, I tell you! Nothing!**

The unyielding rain beat it's fists against the wooden paint-chipped window pane of the tiny boxed bedroom; every drop reminded Hermione of a thousand impatient fingers drumming against a table expectantly, waiting. She observed the droplets falling against the glass like paint splattered on a canvas and she smiled to herself as she imagined that each tiny little crystal was racing the other, only to eventually merge together in the end. The sound of the rain elicited a wave of contentment from Hermione and, sighing, she leaned against the door frame admiring the view, allowing her mind to wander while she waited for Ron to gather the supplies needed to decorate the last room, the bedroom.

She had always liked the rain, although it was unconventional to do so. The truth was Hermione preferred the rain - much more so than the sun - because it reminded her of all the soaking wet Quidditch matches she had witnessed, and with the memory of rain brought her memories of Ron; the three of them laughing and running through the rain towards the castle after a particularly muddy Care of Magical Creatures lesson; a stormy evening playing Wizards Chess with Ron in the Gryffindor common room, smiling at the memory of Ron's triumph having actually beaten Hermione at something; Ron running his hands slowly through his wet hair as they entered the great hall; their second kiss that night...

The second kiss. Now, despite herself, Hermione felt herself blush. Just 8 months ago, a day after the war ended, Hermione remembered perfectly the second time herself and Ron had kissed. She had been fretting about their first kiss all night and through to the next morning: Why hadn't Ron spoken to her about it? Was it a mistake? She soon found out, however, that this was definitely not the case. After spending the morning with Harry and the Weasley's, each desperately trying not to mention the horrors of the previous night, Hermione had felt the need to give the Weasley's time to their selves for the rest of the day to grieve in private. So, when Ron had silently arrived in the common room that night, she gazed up from her book in complete shock, expecting him to have stayed with his family. That was when, after mumbling several incoherent words, he had bent down and - without hesitation, as if acting upon impulse - kissed her with so much emotion, so much love and want, that her mind had gone utterly blank - all of her tangled, unforgiving thoughts had evaporated within that moment.

8 months on and Hermione still had butterflies every time Ron came home from work. As if on cue, she snapped out of her reverie when she heard the door slam.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice called out from downstairs.

"Up here, Ronald." Hermione had decided to decorate their bedroom the Muggle way, insisting it was a learning curve for Ron and that he would find it fun. Among various protests, Ron had eventually agreed to go and get the last of the paint needed, for when they first moved in, they had laid down the new carpet and had the bed - the first and only piece of furniture so far to occupy the room - set up. Rons heavy footfalls proceeded up the stairs so Hermione began to strategically lay the canvas sheet down in order to prevent the paint splashing onto the carpet. Knowing Ron, she thought, that was bound to happen. Seconds later Ron emerged panting, his cheeks flushed, juggling the paint tin with two sets of paint brushes and rollers. Tiny droplets of water still clung to his flaming hair as he peeled his wet coat off.

"Bloody hell, it was mad out there! The crowds reminded me of the Quidditch world cup, there was that many people out shopping - _and_ in this weather!" He walked over and set the supplies down by Hermione's feet. "It was mad!" He repeated for effect, before reaching towards Hermione, causing her heart to skip a beat at his closeness. Before she realised what he was doing, he reached up underneath her T-shirt, placing his freezing cold hands on her stomach.

"RON!" Hermione squealed, wriggling away from his ice-cold fingers. He chuckled as Hermione shot him one of her famous glares, although the effect it usually had dissolved as she was biting her lip, fighting the urge to smile. "Honestly!" She exclaimed. "Anyway, we need to get on with this because-" She paused, seeing Ron's grin fade, only to be replaced with a frown.

"What?" The mood changed as quickly as it had began...

Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly, choosing his next words carefully: "Well, I don't know why we really have to decorate the Muggle way, Hermione. I mean, if we just used our wands like last time, it wouldn't take as long..." He trailed off as a flicker of disappointment flashed across Hermione's features. "Sorry?" He grumbled hopefully. Hermione's mouth set into a firm line as she pressed her lips together, thinking over what Ron had said.

"But Ron... you've never decorated the Muggle way, I thought you would have liked to? Besides, how will you ever learn if you just use magic to solve everything?" Her voice rose with a slight hint of a challenge and she crossed her arms defensively. Why was he being lazy? They had planned this ever since they had bought the house - all rooms decorated with magic except the bedroom; Hermione thought it would be nice to add their own touch properly to the room, to officially claim it as theirs. Ron looked exasperated with Hermione's stubborn attitude.

"Merlin, Hermione! We decorated all of the other rooms with magic and..." He paused as he took his wand out of his pocket, "I can have this done for you in no time. Please?" He begged.

Hermione looked away, her expression hardening with frustration. Silence. All that the couple could hear was the rain outside and the ever-present whistling wind.

Ron, mistaking her silence as consent, lifted his wand and coughed, ready to begin. Yet, Hermione had other ideas. In one swift movement, Hermione lunged for the wand. Ron, however, was too quick. He quickly held it above his head so Hermione couldn't reach, unable to suppress a chuckle.

"Hermione, I'm an Auror." Ron said simply, smirking and still holding the wand out of Hermione's reach. This only caused Hermione's annoyance to bubble over the edge completely and she stepped closer so that she felt his body heat emanate towards her. They were only an inch apart and the emotions continued to bubbled between them - how could he find this funny? Hermione fixed her gaze on Ron's with determination and, although he towered above her, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Hermione was the one with the authority; when she next spoke, her voice grew low.

"Now really, this is a silly thing to argue about. If you're going to be childish, Ron, then fine. I can be just as childish: if you don't give me your wand now, I'm not cooking you your steak and kidney pie tonight. Your choice." She replied, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she saw Ron's torn expression. Ron seemed to be contemplating this before finally shaking his head. He was beginning to feel angry now.

"I'm _trying _to help you, Hermione. Why won't you listen?" He finally lowered his arm, scowling down at his now-furious-wife. "You're making this out to be something more than it is, I-" Hermione cut him off.

"I think you'll find you're the one exaggerating! We use magic as a last resort and not as a means to an end, in my house!" She shrieked the last part, for Ron was walking away, unwilling to argue. Although his back was to her, Hermione still saw his wince at her words and she instantly felt regret flooding through her veins.

"_You're _house?" With that, he crossed the room back to Hermione, his breathing increasing with rage. After all of the years of arguing with each other, the couple still hadn't gotten used to how quickly they could make the other turn sour. Ron's ears tinged red as he spoke and he couldn't stop his voice betraying the hurt that he felt, "Just because your parents helped with the money? Well I'm sorry mine couldn't. Am I not good enough, now, to be apart of _your _house?" He bellowed the last words and, with Ron's still accelerating rage, Hermione's anger decreased entirely. She had not meant what she said, of course she knew his parents couldn't help. She hadn't expected them to, even. Oh, why was she able to solve most things but never Ron? She always added fuel to the fire with him, never being the one to extinguish the flames. This time, she knew she had to try. She had gone too far and now she had to make amends. Her heart ached and she looked back at Ron, whose chest heaved with anger, whose eyes were fixed pointedly out of the window. Despite this, she could still clearly see how hurt he felt. Money had always been a tricky situation to discuss with Ron, after all.

"Ron, I'm sorry." She began, her voice small and full of guilt. She reached for his hand but Ron turned and walked over to the bed. It creaked as he sat down and, without thinking, Hermione followed suit. She scooted closer to him and placed her hand on his leg. He stiffened at the contact, reluctant to forget her previous words.

"Ron, please. I didn't mean what I said. You know me, I'm _always_ quick to snap back and, as a consequence, I just don't think. I'm sorry"

"But you must have been thinking it - that I didn't work for this house." Ron replied fiercely, his pool of blue eyes staring into Hermione's intensely. She reached up and, persevering with her attempt at redeeming herself, reacted to his words by pulling his mouth down to hers and kissing him softly on the lips. A gentle brush though it was, it still managed to cause his body to tingle and something to stir within the pit of his stomach.

"I don't think that at all." She whispered, still only inches away from his lips, both hands still grasping Ron's face either side. He had no choice but to gaze directly back at her and he felt his hurt seeping away at her touch. He sighed as he took her hands in his, his fingers absent-mindedly drawing patterns on the back of her hands as he struggled, trying to find the right words. Hermione, noticing this, interjected.

"Am I forgiven?" She asked hopefully. Ron smiled, his ears a tinge of red once more as he let go of Hermione's hands and reached up to brush a loose curl from her face. He had always secretly loved her hair, even if she hated it.

"Yeah, I 'spose you are. Anyway, how can I refuse when you've left me hanging? We'll need to fix that." His blue eyes sparkled as he waited for Hermione to understand his meaning, his heart thumping rapidly with anticipation. She laughed and waved her hand dismissively.

"Oh! Of course you can use magic to decorate. I have to admit it, you're right. It will take less time and, at least with using magic, you won't go spilling the paint every where." She playfully poked him in the ribs and he grinned slyly.

"Thanks but I was _actually _meaning this..." With that, he deftly wrapped his arms around a blushing Hermione's waist and pulled her into his lap, "You can't just kiss me like that and expect that to be it, now can you?"


End file.
